Unexpected blessings; Matthew 5:1-12; February 1, 2026

Scripture Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. And he began to speak and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Sermon Unexpected blessings Pastor Anne Nelson

Turn on the television, read a magazine, or scan the internet and the message is clear: happiness is something you have to work for. It’s something you have to pay for. The happy people? Are shiny and whole, are somehow better than you, have something you need, and can probably never really attain. But if you buy this product, or book this vacation, or adopt this lifestyle, you can taste it – happiness. The message is always the same - true happiness is possible, and it has been achieved by this incredibly perfect person that you look up to, and if you work hard enough, you can be happy too.

We expect these things to be true of the consumer culture around us, yet we encounter the same values in church sometimes too. We come to believe - if I work harder, am more moral and virtuous, if I’m as perfect as I can be, then God will bless me with comfort, plenty of material well-being, some success, and - God will limit the amount of difficulty I face. We slip into thinking that our good behavior will lead to material happiness.

But in Jesus’s first extended teaching, which begins here at the top of Matthew chapter 5, we see happiness – blessing – differently. Instead of looking up at the shiny people, our perception is turned toward hidden places and unexpected corners - toward the foolishness that Paul wrote about in the letter to the Corinthians. Gently, Jesus turns us away from the strategies of striving and competition that our own culture often promotes. Jesus reveals kingdom happiness through each blessing in this passage - revealing ways of community, wholeness, and contentment.

Each of these blessings is a pithy piece of wisdom worth chewing on. We cannot dwell deeply on each and every one, though each one will yield questions, and insights, if you sit with it over time.

This morning, the heart of the passage for us, is this little phrase, “Blessed are those who mourn.”

Blessed are those who grieve and experience sadness over loss.

In other words – blessed are those who tell the truth about loss. 

Blessed are those who name the realities of tragedy and death and suffering for what they really are, and who do not avoid the pain of these realities.

Not because of a desire to wallow in self-pity, nor for the sake of a wrong-headed piety that is dour and cheerless - after all, comfort is coming in the very next breath, before the sentence ends.

No. Not mourning for its own sake, because grief feels awful. Sometimes it is truly unbearable. Piercingly, unbearably painful. No one wants to mourn, to face the fact of death or tragedy. We are not meant to live in grief. 

Yet when we mourn, when we tell the truth about our sadness, when we are willing to enter into mourning with others, we open the door to the possibility of comfort. And –  when we choose to utterly ignore or suppress mourning, instead of comfort, the door is opened to alternatives that are inadequate, unhelpful, even destructive.

In recent weeks in the Twin Cities, we have mourned. We have mourned over violence. We have been properly horrified and grieved by the deaths of our neighbors, and by the losses other neighbors have suffered - loss of safety, loss of family, loss of dignity, loss of livelihood. Out of our mourning come strange but tangible comforts - the comfort of activity, of weeping, of gathering with neighbors and family members, the comfort of ascribing dignity to ones we love and value. The comfort of trying to make sure that more tragedy and unnecessary loss are averted and avoided.

On the other hand, there are those who publicly seek to avoid sadness and grief and rage - those healthy components of mourning. We’ve watched victims being blamed, we’ve been told to believe blatant lies, we’ve been told to ignore or turn away from suffering, instead to double down on apathy. 

If the officials who pedaled these lies were to be pierced by grief instead, their empire would crumble. If these officials were to allow themselves to be heartbroken by the sight of a five-year-old being detained, or a citizen being dragged out of her car while on her way to a doctor’s appointment, their whole project would crumble. They would be softened into repentance. As they should be. 

To say, “blessed are those who mourn” is to affirm that God is uniquely close to those who are brokenhearted, but it is also to say that mourning can be a way of moving toward, and through, the truth of a loss, and thus, on the other side, to be open to comfort. Comfort which soothes, and sets to rights, and works to smooth the path of suffering so that others can have an easier time.

In our own time and place the word on mourning is a gift - reassurance that we are headed in the right direction, headed toward justice and compassion and the comfort they bring.

Considering mourning also allows us to consider the other blessings in this passage, to see how they contribute to the arrival of God’s ways on earth. 

Look at the way meekness says “no!” to stifling self-centeredness, therefore we may tend gently to this good earth, so it that remains inhabitable. 

Or think about the way that being hungry and thirsty for righteousness - for justice, for compassion - brings its own reward - it will be fulfilled. Our hunger and thirst are not empty appetites, but mighty forces for the good.

Consider the “poor in spirit” - which is to say - those who depend on God, those who are steeped in gratitude, who see the world as gift given freely - they will perceive the love of God in action and enter into its promises.

Notice how the merciful - those who actively extend compassion to others – make a community in which others are given permission to extend active compassion also. Mercy multiplies.

What a relief. 

These beatitudes are not meant to make us feel burdened or imperfect or behind the curve. They are meant to reveal to us, again and again, that God’s ways of liberation are for relief. Relief from ego and scarcity and selfishness. Relief from wrath and the multiplication of tragedy. 

Relief of true peace, peace that follows justice. Relief knowing that our humanity will be held compassionately, not harshly. Relief knowing that when we mourn, when we tell the truth about our sadness, the door is opened for comfort.

This beloved community is a gentler place than the culture I described at the beginning of this sermon. Let us welcome it into our own lives, renouncing the dread that accompanies perfectionism and achievement and instead, allowing ourselves to depend on God, to cultivate gratitude, and to renew our love toward one another.